Ambiguity
by Daydreaming Heart
Summary: (Oneshot, post-movie) "The people of the village would often tell her that her great curiosity was either her best or worst trait. Her curiosity wasn't just your average kind of spirit of inquiry, it was a very stubborn sort of inquisitiveness. As a result, she had the unfortunate habit of asking questions that would never be answered."


Every day for as long as she could remember, she would gaze to the cluster of trees in the distance. The faint and enigmatic emerald cloud of life and mystery that hovered just beyond the river's edge. She yearned to go there, to set foot in the forest just once and let her eyes feast upon the scenery that was bursting with every which kind of sentience and the lush colors of Creation, but she could not. No, never, it was _too dangerous,_ especially for a child.

Even still, it made her all the more curious about this supposed perilous timberland, made the butterflies in her heart all the more restless. The people of the village would often tell her that her great curiosity was either her best or worst trait. Her father, some of the women, the elders, even the esteemed chieftress of the town considered her inquisitive nature to be the cause of her eagerness to learn, eye for detail, and willingness to embrace both man and beast.

She knew not how to read, neither did her father, yet she would buy books and scrolls illustrated with pictures of either flowers and trees, real animals, or creatures of myth from traveling merchants and scholars whenever she had the chance and later asking them about the behavior of some of the fauna and flora within the papers she had purchased and very eager to learn more about them, running errands for her father and delivering items from one neighbor to another to earn enough to buy those pictures of wildlife and legends that enamored her so. Even from a young age, this fascination with life had been strong, much of her time being spent drawing trees and panthers and wolves and badgers on bits of spare paper. At every opportunity, she would take a wandering animal off of the streets, be it dog, cat, pig, cow, foal, even rat and lizard, and beg her father to let her keep it. Sadly for her, her animals would either die the next day or would run away, the only exception being a cat of hers whom she had owned for five years, but had passed away two years ago from old age. Through her passions for the world around her and what her father had taught her about the severe consequences of hatred and violence, she had molded herself into someone who cared for every living thing, wishing that the human body did not need food so that she would not tear apart something that was once alive like her, plant and animal alike, but had to for the sake of her own health and to put any worries from her father to rest, and was as polite and kind to others as possible in spite of her troublesome shortcomings.

The others, a majority of the adults who wished to work, Mister Gonza, and the rest of the women who did not just view her as a child being a child, saw this trait of hers as something that made her a danger to herself and others. She would snoop around whatever she didn't understand, and sometimes it would prove hazardous, especially taking in the fact that her heart spoke so loudly that it was the only thing she could listen to. She would not stop running to what she considered deep within her consciousness to be her next adventure and would often collide with every person in her wake, and though she apologized as politely but quickly as possible with every bump, she would be lucky if she went a trip on the streets without breaking anything, and that was just taking when she went on foot into account instead of racing through the village on her father's faithful deer. And on top of it all, her curiosity wasn't just your average kind of spirit of inquiry, it was a very _stubborn_ sort of inquisitiveness. As a result, she had the unfortunate habit of asking questions that would never be answered. Of course, there were the simpler ones one would expect from a twelve-year old girl with itchy feet and a fondness for nature, like "Why can't I go into the forest? Why is it so dangerous?", to which everyone would either reply with "You just can't!" or "You're a little girl!" or "You'll get killed!".

…She could personally stand for the last one to be a bit more specific…though it was probably the point: to not give her any ideas that might just make her even _more_ curious as to what dwelled within the woods just beyond the village walls.

Though there were also the queries addressing the more…glaring issues in her life…the things she did not know yet desperately needed to know nevertheless.

Almost all of the other citizens of the town referenced her mother at least every now and again. Her father, Mister Gonza, and the lady running the town having the most to say about her, but all having quite different opinions on her. Mister Gonza seemed to speak of her with fear and some contempt, saying the girl's mother was nothing short of a vicious beast and that her child was, albeit not intentionally destructive or anything of the sort, no different. He always called her that, "beast-girl". "Beast-girl! I've almost had it with you and your disruptiveness!" "Beast-girl, you'll be the death of our marketplaces with your lack of caution!" he would shout. Though she thought he was saying this because of how he thought she behaved, a part of the girl couldn't help but feel as if he truly thought she was some sort of wild animal, just by the way he would speak to her as if she were a disobedient dog or ox. The lady said that she and the girl's mother were once sworn enemies, both proud warriors and each fighting for their respective ideals, yet a change of heart that resulted in a grievous wound the noblewoman of iron had received around fifteen years ago caused her to view her fierce adversary as more of a rival as the years went by, even as someone who had helped her see the light and have more respect for the world around her. "I seriously doubt your mother has had a decrease of animosity towards me, however. Knowing her, she would probably go into a fit of rage knowing her own offspring is on good enough terms with her nemesis." She told her once after one of their many talks regarding reckless elk-riding through the streets.

But the one she got the most information from was her father. She had learned of their first meeting, a fateful and heart-stopping encounter from two opposite sides of a river as he continued traveling to his next destination and she had been lending her aid to her own mother, to her looks, the girl inheriting some qualities of her face as well as her light-brown hair, though she didn't have that stormy dark silver color to her eyes that her father said he loved so dearly, to her personality, being a nature-loving woman herself with a free and uncatchable spirit and a fiery and zealous heart that was golden at it's core in spite of her temper and stubborn tendencies, to some of the moments they had spent together, be it when she had been nursing him back to health after he had taken some grave injuries or their last-known weekly meeting where they had found the perfect hill to gaze at the sky and the scenery from. She had even learned of some of her little quirks, like her reflex to reach for her blade and defend herself upon being startled, even during thunderstorms and when she didn't even have her dagger with her, her unspoken but apparent fondness for some kinds of flowers, how she made funny noises whenever she scratched her nose, the girl felt like she knew her mother without even actually knowing her.

Except for a few things.

"What is my mother's name? What happened to her? Where is she?"

To that, none dared answer. Whenever she asked those questions, she got nothing but pure silence that one would expect from the dead. Her father would hold to the quietness for a while, suddenly looking sad, then telling the same story that she had heard since she was aware enough that still didn't give her the answers she was looking for other than her mother was at least still alive.

"Many years ago, after we were to part ways from the last meeting we had, your mother had told me that it was for the best we stopped seeing each other for a while. When I asked why, she said that it wasn't because she had grown to dislike me, but for whatever reason, she just couldn't, muttering that… … …it was no place for…" He would stop there, clearing his throat and then proceed to skip whatever it was that she was going to say. "For weeks I had gone to our usual place in case she would come out of habit, but to no avail. I could not understand her reasoning as to why she was so adamant about us dividing until one morning in the late autumn, nearly a year later, where I found you at my door. You were only a few months old, wrapped in deerskin and idly mewling. I remember you seemed so surprised when we first saw each other, I hesitated for a moment, trying to comprehend what was going on, and then you started crying, but the instant I picked you up, you stopped, like you had suddenly realized that you were safe and would be alone no longer. When I was going to put you in a different blanket, I saw that you shared your pelt cloth with several dark blue and purple flowers, ones that your mother quite liked. At that moment, not only did I know what your name was going to be, but everything became clear…"

"…Does Mother dislike me?" The girl had asked once. She felt bad for asking, yet she couldn't help but wonder if that was the case.

Her father shook his head. "I know she doesn't. I know she loves you and misses you very much. You see, every now and then, I find a bundle of those same flowers on our doorstep in the morning. I can tell you this, dearest: she remembers you, and if things weren't so…complicated…she would love to see you someday."

"Where is she?"

"…You look like her." Her father would say in an attempt to change the subject. "Though your hair is much longer, your build is more delicate, and your eyes are different, you almost look like her mirror image." He would then look to the sky or to the ground, the gleam in eyes growing distant as he began to reminisce. "…You act a little like her sometimes, too. You're both very lively and follow your hearts as well as speak from them. She would've gotten along very well with you."

The girl would internally groan. The questions that had come into her brain since she was a toddler were painful to leave unanswered, yet they had remained that way for nine whole years. It was killing her that she didn't know her own mother's name or what had become of her other than being a phantom in the night leaving little blue flowers by the entrance to her home, yet she had no choice but to accept that no one was willing to tell it right to her for whichever reason. For her own good? For their own convenience? It mattered not, all she knew was she would be left on a cliffhanger until someone decided to give her the truth.

After she had accidentally knocked over yet another stand of vegetables while racing about on her father's elk, both she and her father had been requested to talk about this issue yet again by the lady of the hamlet.

It was the same old lecture, the same old slight jest to be more careful at the end, and yet everyone in the room knew that the girl would unintentionally demolish another cabbage cart sometime in the future. As she prepared to leave, the noblewoman wished to discuss the issue of aggressive mercenaries getting too close to the town with her father.

"That girl is growing up to be a problem." Mister Gonza had grumbled as she lightly stepped away and made her way towards the exit. "Wild as her beastly mother, if not actually more so."

"I disbelieve that she truly means any actual harm, Gonza." She heard the lady say as she was practically out of the room.

The older man growled slightly. "I'll believe it when she stops causing havoc on the streets."

The girl had been walking through the hallway that led to the ironworks when she had stopped by the wall to listen. What was this whole issue about hostiles, anyway? If she was a citizen of the town, she felt it concerned her, at least a little.

Though once the long pause of silence ended, she soon found she wasn't going to stay around until they got to that part as she heard the voices of the adults talking about something much more dire to her.

"…You still won't tell her, will you?" The noblewoman said coolly, yet a somber tinge edged her tone.

"…I can't. No one can." Her father replied, his own voice trying to suppress any emotion within.

"You may be the only one with the heart to tell her."

" _Especially not me_." He objected.

"You can't leave your girl in the dark forever." The lady told him.

There was another pause, and then her father spoke again. "…She would get herself killed if I told her about her mother's identity…"

The girl listened a bit more closely, now, eyes widened slightly.

"The more questions left unanswered, the more she seems to ask."

"Then why don't any of you answer for her?" Her father nearly snapped.

"She'd only be angry with you for keeping such secrets from her." The lady said back, almost in a chiding manner. "Then she would storm off to find her mother and die trying."

The tension building up was enough, both in the conversation between the adults and in her mind, and she ran. She ran through the hall, out of the ironworks, out of the building, through the streets, she just didn't stop. All was as a blur as she just kept running, just smudges of the colors of dirt, straw, fire, smoke, and the clothes of bystanders.

It wasn't until she practically ran into the fortress-like walls of the aspiring city that she finally ceased sprinting like a frightened young horse.

She slouched as she finally stood still, trying to catch her breath and dismiss the pressure of the now relentless nagging in her head. All the things she had been wondering about her whole life…there was no chance they would answer out of fear of how she would react upon gaining that precious knowledge. She felt like she was in one of those legends she heard from the elders in which spirits wished not to grant teach some form of intelligence, be it magic or how to make weapons or fire, to man in fear that they would destroy themselves. Frustration growing within, she climbed up the ladder, step by step the buzzing in her head started growing into roars. Her arm rested upon the stockade, crawling upon it clumsily and slowly until she could support herself and stand up. She took a few paces, peering between the great wooden stakes that protruded from the earth like great trees shaped like javelins, and from afar she saw the great wood that had always captured her imagination.

The late afternoon sun glimmered on the surrounding creek, coast clear of any ruffians. A seemingly perfect day overall.

She was sick and tired of this vague world of grown-ups keeping secrets and playing war. If it was that burning curiosity that was driving her so mad, then she would have to satisfy it herself.

She would make a mental note to get some knives from back home and scale down those walls later. It was time she finally made her escape and learned a thing or two about the world, and her first step would be to see this forest with her own two eyes.

* * *

 _A/N: This fic is actually based off of an old OC of mine, Delphin (short for Delphinium) being her name, who I've either scrapped or plan to re-write things to make her story more original. In fact, I've referenced her animal sidekick, a panther the size of a horse named Arik, in the cat that was briefly mentioned, as well as her namesake in the purple and blue flowers left in her blanket/at her doorstep._

 _Aside from that, I'm not too sure about this bit of writing, here. I feel that no fanfiction can truly do a Miyazaki movie of all things justice, and re-watching Princess Mononoke earlier today kinda made me realize that. Even so, though it's far from my favorite Ghibli film (I be squeamish and all the blood and gore unnerves me. Besides, it's hard to beat my love for Valley of the Wind), I've had this film on the brain for a while, and I thought I might as well write something about it. That aside, I also feel it's a bit vague, but part of that was the goal: we see through the eyes of a curious and confused twelve-year-old girl who everyone has been making a huge effort to keep safe (San gives her up so she doesn't die, the people of Iron Town tell her nothing so she doesn't run into the forest to find her mom and proceed to die, everyone tells her no to going outside the town's walls so she doesn't die, due to the circumstances of her life, doing the slightest thing out of the ordinary may put her life at risk), even if all it does is throw fuel onto the fire._

 _Though I'm not overly proud of this oneshot, I still hope you guys have enjoyed it to some degree. ^_^_


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